The Highlander's Christmas Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Yes, please, something plain for my uncle. Spanish Bran, perhaps?”

  “Excellent choice. No nonsense like Attar of Roses for a sensible Scotsman.”

  “I’m not familiar with that one. Then again, I’m not exactly fashionable, so I wouldn’t be.”

  He paused before the door of a shop, smiling down at her. “You’re as fashionable as you need to be, lass.”

  The man had a lethal smile. She could almost wish to unbutton her pelisse and fan away the flush of heat.

  “Which is to say, not fashionable at all,” she joked, trying to cover.

  His reply was cut off when the door opened and a brawny young man hurried out, barely avoiding them. His thick shock of blazing red hair was instantly and fatally recognizable to Donella.

  She could only pray he wouldn’t recognize her.

  “Och, excuse me,” he said. “I didn’t see ye—”

  When he stuttered to a halt, his eyes going wide, Donella knew her prayers had gone unanswered. The young man gaped at her with utter astonishment.

  All she could do was stare back in horror at the face she’d not seen in years. She would never forget it, nor would she forget the shameful secret his presence conjured up like a howling ghost.

  “Is there a problem, sir?” Logan asked.

  The sarcasm in his tone apparently did the trick. Roddy Murray awoke from his stupor and flashed Donella a wide smile that only served to increase the panic crackling through her brain.

  “Miss Donella,” Roddy said in his deep brogue. “I heard ye were out of the convent, but I had no idea ye were in Glasgow. We just got to town a few days ago, so I reckon it’s no wonder I hadna heard about ye bein’ here.”

  Her wits finally started to thaw. His comment surprised her, since the Murrays hated anything to do with the city. Generally, they tucked themselves away on their estate in one of the more remote corners of the Trossachs. And yet here they were, only a few weeks after her attempted abduction. That seemed entirely too coincidental, especially since Uncle Riddick had sternly warned the Murrays to stay away from the Haddons in general and Donella in particular.

  Still, Roddy did seem genuinely surprised—and pleased—to see her. Had he not even been aware of that insane episode or known about her uncle’s warning?

  “Is your entire family here in Glasgow?” she managed.

  “Aye. We’ve all come down for a spell, visiting with my mother’s sister, ye ken.”

  “Your father, too?” she prodded.

  Mungo Murray was the most likely suspect behind the abduction. Good-natured Roddy was incapable of designing any sort of complicated plan.

  He looked confused, which wasn’t unusual. Confusion was Roddy’s natural state. In Donella’s experience, most girls had been willing to overlook that unfortunate fact because he was both handsome, good-natured, and his father’s heir.

  “Where else would he be?” Roddy answered.

  An upsweep of nausea forced her to close her eyes and suck in a breath. All her old sins had finally caught up with her.

  “Are you all right, lass?” Logan asked.

  She opened her eyes to meet his concerned gaze. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine.”

  He switched his attention to Roddy. “And who are you?”

  Roddy blinked, obviously perplexed by Logan’s rude behavior.

  “Just a family friend from the old days,” Donella blurted out. “It’s getting late. Don’t you think we should look for Joseph?”

  Roddy looked like a kicked puppy. She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt.

  Somehow, he mustered a smile and held out a hand to Logan. “I’m Roderick Murray, sir, of the Murray Clan. As Miss Donella says, an old friend.”

  Logan’s hand froze in midair. “Murray?”

  “Aye, sir. Roddy, to my friends.” He grinned at Donella. “Ye always called me that, ye ken.”

  Donella had once read a book in which several characters were swept away by a monstrous tornado. When Logan’s outstretched hand curled into a fist, she found herself wishing to see one whirling down the street.

  Logan began to crowd Roddy in the doorway. Horrified, Donella wedged herself between them.

  “Yes, I do remember,” she said in a dementedly bright voice. “But we were very young, you know.”

  “Och, but ye must ken how glad I am to see ye now.” He smiled at her with genuine pleasure. “Despite what happened with . . .” He twirled a hand.

  Oh, God, please get me out of this.

  “Roderick, it’s lovely to see you, but we really must—”

  “Who’s yer friend, Miss Donella?” Roddy interrupted, frowning, apparently remembering that Logan had snubbed him. “He seems a mite fashed.”

  “As I mentioned, we need—”

  Logan wrapped his hands around her shoulders and moved her out of the way.

  She yanked her hands out of her muff and grabbed his arm. “Mr. Kendrick, your son is no doubt waiting for us.”

  He ignored her. “I’m Logan Kendrick, Murray. I’m the man who prevented Miss Haddon’s kidnapping a few weeks ago. An attempt by your clansmen.”

  Roddy’s stunned expression would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so dire. “Murrays tried to abduct Miss Donella? Go on, man. That’s daft.”

  Logan took a step closer, forcing Roddy to back into the glass of the shop door. The sound drew the attention of the shopkeeper and several customers.

  “You’d best tell me what you know about it, or else,” Logan said in a low, terrifying voice.

  Roddy went from confused to indignant in an instant. “Are ye saying I had something to do with it? Why the bloody hell would I want to kidnap Donella?”

  He was loud enough to capture the interest of an elderly couple strolling by. Donella’s heart sank when she realized it was Lord and Lady MacTavish, high sticklers of the first order.

  Donella again tried to wedge herself between the men, but Logan held her back.

  “People are beginning to notice,” she hissed.

  “I don’t give a damn,” he said. “I don’t want you anywhere near a Murray. Go down to the toy shop and find Angus and Joseph. Stay with them until I come to get you.”

  “Do you think Roderick is going to kidnap me right off the street, in broad daylight? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’ve never kidnapped anyone in my life,” Roddy huffed. “And I’m verra fond of Donella, ye ken.”

  Logan’s gaze narrowed to icy blue slits. “No, I dinna ken. Perhaps ye would like to explain it to me.”

  His lethal tone would have sent most men scrambling backward, right through the plate glass, if necessary. Sadly, Roddy was too dense to take the warning.

  She once more tried to wedge herself between them, this time facing Logan. “He means nothing except the fact that the Murray and the Haddon families were once quite close.”

  Logan scoffed. “That’s a bit rich, lass. Friends, generally speaking, don’t abduct friends.”

  Roddy, being an idiot, agreed with him. “That’s true. My da always hated Lord Riddick. Called him a churly grum-bleguts, he did.”

  Beginning to feel like a piece of cheese smashed inside a scone, Donella wriggled around to glare at Roddy.

  “Roderick, please be quiet.”

  “But—”

  “Shut. Up.”

  He subsided with a grumble, looking wounded again.

  She turned back to Logan. “You’re causing a scene, sir. We need to go.”

  He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the small audience that had joined Lord and Lady MacTavish. “Having fun, are we? I suggest you bugger off before I really lose my temper.”

  That bon mot generated a round of outraged gasps. But since he was Logan Kendrick, his warning had the desired effect.

  “You are a complete idiot,” she said when he turned back to her.

  “Got rid of them, didn’t I?”

  She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You are going to ruin what
little bit of reputation I have left.”

  “You needn’t worry about your reputation. I’ll take care of that.”

  “You just did. Now, can we please put an end to this utterly humiliating scene?”

  “Not before I’m convinced that this nincompoop didn’t try to abduct you,” Logan shot back.

  “I keep tellin’ ye I didn’t,” Roddy indignantly exclaimed. “And I’ll darken yer daylights if ye say it again.”

  Donella twisted around. “Roddy, for your own sake, please shut up.”

  He grimaced. “But I canna have ye thinkin’ such a thing. Ye must know that I would never hurt ye. Never.”

  Whatever his faults, Roddy didn’t have a devious bone in his body. “I know. I believe you.”

  “Then what about your father?” Logan asked him. “Or others in the Murray Clan? Is there some reason they would want to hurt Donella or Lord Riddick?”

  When the shopkeeper banged on the door behind them, poor Roddy almost jumped out of his boots.

  “Would ye please stop blocking the door?” the man yelled through the glass. “My customers wish to leave.”

  “I’m sorry,” Donella called back. Then she fixed Roddy with a stern look. “Roderick, go home. And do not mention this unfortunate encounter to your father. Understand?”

  “But—”

  “I mean it.” She turned and planted a hand on Logan’s chest and gave him a shove. “If you do not move, I will be forced to kick you in the shins. Which will definitely hurt me more than it hurts you.”

  Logan scrubbed a frustrated hand over his face. “Donella, I need to—”

  “What you need to do is stop.”

  She took his arm and began dragging him away. Thankfully, this time he let her—but not without directing a scowl over his shoulder at Roddy.

  “This isn’t finished, Murray,” Logan barked.

  “Stop making a scene or I’ll murder you,” Donella hissed.

  Perversely, that made him snort with amusement. “You know, for an almost-nun, you frequently sound quite bloodthirsty.”

  Now that she’d finally escaped the scene, the sheer horror hit her full force. Roddy had been only seconds away from blurting out enough of the truth for Logan to guess the rest. And that likely would have resulted in real murder, or at least enough bloodshed to cause a dreadful mess.

  “No need to fall into a snit, lass,” Logan said. “And you can hardly blame me, since we just ran into a man whose family tried to kidnap you. A man you were apparently verra close to, whatever that means.”

  She refused to look at him. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s not terribly bright, as I’m sure you noticed.”

  “Donella, what aren’t you telling me?”

  She glanced up at him, exasperated. “Do you never give up?”

  His answering smile managed to look both charming and feral. “Not when it comes to you.”

  Panic once more began to thread icy tendrils through her brain. “It’s not your business.”

  “I think it’s entirely my business, lass. After all, you’re going to be my—”

  “Donella, here we are!”

  She felt weak with relief when Joseph pelted toward them, with Angus following at a more leisurely pace.

  The boy skidded to a halt in front of her. “Grandda and I were looking everywhere. You’ve been gone ever so long.”

  She patted his shoulder, annoyed to see a slight tremor in her hand. “We decided to stroll up to the church at the top of the street.”

  Joseph frowned. “You didn’t go Christmas shopping?”

  “We . . . we ran out of time,” she said lamely.

  “Ran out of time, did ye?” Angus’s gaze flickered between them. “Ye both look as queer as Dick’s hatband. What’s amiss?”

  “Just an interesting encounter with an old friend of Miss Donella’s,” Logan said.

  Joseph heaved a sigh. “Papa, are you being mean to Donella again?”

  “Of course not. I’m never mean to anyone.”

  “Ha,” Donella said.

  “Ha,” Joseph echoed.

  Logan pointed a finger at Angus. “Don’t even think about it.”

  The old man snorted. “Doesna seem like the lassie agrees with ye.”

  “The lassie would be wrong.”

  Donella decided it was time to marshal her loyal troops. “The lassie is not wrong.” She looped her muff around one wrist and offered a hand to Joseph. “Would you and your grandfather like to walk me to Kendrick House?”

  “Yes, please.” Joseph looked at his father. “Papa, we left the packages at the toy shop. Grandda said you could fetch them and take them home in your carriage.”

  “Papa is supposed to be driving Miss Donella back to Breadie Manor, remember?” Logan scowled at her. “Where she now lives.”

  She waved her muff. “I’m sure Lord Arnprior’s coachman can drive me home. Then he can pick up your groom on the way back.”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” Logan objected. “I’m right here, and my curricle is right down the bloody street.”

  Angus snickered. “Ye’d best pick up the packages while I walk the two of them back to Kendrick House. Oh, and stop at the sweet shop while yer at it. We had them set aside boxes of taffy for Kade, Braden, and the twins.”

  “So now I’m supposed to play footman to you lot?” Logan said, clearly exasperated.

  “Seems so.” Angus took Donella’s arm. “Ready, lass?”

  “I am indeed.”

  “I’m not done with our conversation, Donella,” Logan said in a clear warning tone.

  “I am.” She turned and marched off with her faithful escorts.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Donella eyed her bosom in the pier glass over her dressing table and tried to tug up her bodice. It still seemed scandalously low, despite Eden’s earlier assurances.

  “You need to stop dressing like a prude or an antidote,” her cousin-in-law had insisted. “You’re much too young and pretty for that sort of nonsense, especially at a Christmas party.”

  While it was true that the gown was beautiful—plush green velvet lavishly trimmed with creamy lace and gold ribbons—Donella had almost fainted the first time she’d tried it on. It required her to wear a specially designed set of stays, because her regular ones would have stuck up over the top. Eden had taken care to order them in anticipation of her objections.

  Dress troubles aside, she was feeling too rattled to celebrate anything with the Murrays in town and with Logan Kendrick now on the scent.

  That Logan was deeply suspicious of Roddy Murray was undeniable. That Logan was deeply annoyed with her was also undeniable.

  She’d spent much of the last week dodging him so as to avoid questions she couldn’t answer. By sticking close to Blairgal and throwing herself into final preparations for the party, she’d managed to minimize contact with her erstwhile suitor.

  Joseph had been innocently helpful, coming to visit with Angus almost every day. Since Logan would never forbid his son to spend time with her, Donella had found herself protected by a very effective little chaperone.

  It was sad, really, the methods she was forced to employ to protect her secrets.

  “You’d have made a dreadful nun,” she murmured as she again tugged at her bodice.

  Eden’s maid had been helping her mistress pick out fans, but now bustled over. “Miss Donella, if you don’t stop yanking it, you’ll rip that lovely dress.”

  “I’m not yanking, Cora. I’m just . . . fixing it.”

  Cora swatted her hands away. “Leave off and let me fix it.”

  Eden sank down onto a low, upholstered chair by the fireplace. “Best do what Cora says. She always wins.”

  “And don’t you be flopping down like a nasty schoolboy,” Cora said. “You’ll wrinkle that gown something fierce, and then I’ll have to listen to what-for from Lady Reese.”

  “Mamma stopped caring what I look like when I married the heir to a Scottish e
arldom.”

  “A rich heir,” Donella added with a smile.

  “And you gave him up for me, old girl. Have I thanked you lately for doing that?”

  “You have, but I truly gave him up for myself. You were the nudge I needed.”

  “Well, it all worked out for the best. I got the man I love, and you’re about to get the man you—”

  Donella threw up a hand. “Don’t say it. The very idea gives me hives.”

  Cora blew out a frustrated breath as she straightened Donella’s shoulders. “You girls wriggle about like worms on a hook. It’s a wonder I can get you dressed at all.”

  “What a flattering description,” Eden said in an amused voice. “But Donella looks absolutely smashing tonight, and you know it.”

  Cora finished retying the ribbons at Donella’s back, then reached around to rearrange the gown’s neckline. That put even more bosom on display.

  “There,” said the maid with satisfaction. “Now don’t you be touching anything, Miss Donella, or you’ll spoil it.”

  Eden rose and joined them at the vanity. “You do look lovely, pet. Logan will be thrilled.”

  “I cannot imagine why I’d even care.”

  Cora and Eden exchanged a furtive glance.

  “I can see you in the mirror, you know,” Donella dryly said.

  “That will be all, Cora,” Eden said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The maid couldn’t resist fussing with Donella’s hair one more time before gathering up some discarded shifts. She paused at the door to give her mistress a pointed look.

  “You keep an eye on Miss Donella, now. She’s not used to the ways of these townfolk.”

  “It’s Glasgow, Cora,” Eden said. “No one ever does anything shocking here. Besides, Mr. Kendrick will certainly look after her.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Donella muttered.

  After the door closed, Eden gave her a reassuring smile. “You look perfectly respectable and just as you should. And I love what Cora did with your hair. I have a feeling you’re going to start a new style in boring old Glasgow.”

  Cora had pomaded and brushed Donella’s short hair until it gleamed almost red in the candlelight. Then she’d wound a green velvet bandeau around her head, gathering most of the curls up in a fashionable tumble. The problem was it left her neck and shoulders completely exposed, like much of her chest.